


Keith's iPod and How it Changed Us

by Carmailo



Series: Voltron One Shots [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: IMPLIED SUICIDAL SONGS, Implied Anxiety, Insecurities, Langst, M/M, YOLO, i feel you, implied depression, implied mention of suicidal thoughts, is klangst even a thing or did i make it up, klance, klangst, one shot for all of you who don't wanna commit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 09:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11158830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmailo/pseuds/Carmailo
Summary: Keith's iPod is almost as elusive as the owner. Lance has never heard any of the songs on it, and decides to listen.What he finds... is unexpected.Trigger Warnings: Anxiety (implied), Suicidal thoughts (past tense and implied), Depression (implied).





	Keith's iPod and How it Changed Us

**Author's Note:**

> Please read trigger notes (above, and below).

**Trigger warnings: Anxiety, implications of suicidal thoughts, implications of depression.**

“What’re you listening to, Keith?” I ask, legs propped up the wall and back on the floor.

I’m watching Keith train, which he hates, just to spite him. For the last little while, he’s been bringing a thick rectangular device and plugging his headphones into it to ignore me.

As expected, Keith doesn't answer. I’m not entirely sure he hears me, even, because he’s ducking and parrying like no tomorrow.

His bayard slashes through the Gladiator and it falls before flickering away completely. He reaches up to wipe the sweat from his forehead when he sees me. “Lance.” Keith says, pulling the headset off his ears and leaving them around his neck.

He’s not angry, exactly, but rather resigned. “Hiiiiiii, Keith!” I announce, tipping so I do a reverse somersault.

“How long have you been here?” Keith asks, grabbing the edge of his shirt to dab at his face. I try not to notice the way his well-muscled, yet not overly-muscled, ever-so-defined abs, that are not Shiro-defined but rather soft with a hardness, instead, curl as he bends his spine.

“Mm….” I drag out the sound, trying to remember. “I don't know. You’re getting better though.” I add. 

“You should practice more hand-to-hand.” Keith advises, standing to his full height again and rolling back his shoulders.

“Nah, I’m the sharp-shooter! No need for any training, I'm already excelling at my special trait. Besides, I don't have an awesome Galra sword like you.”

Keith raises an eyebrow. “O…’kay…” he trails off. I get to my feet.

“So, whatcha listenin’ to?” I ask, making a reach for the headset. 

“Nothing!” Keith whips away, hands coming to protectively grip the headphones.

“Geez, you could just say you don't wanna share.” I say, giving a nonchalant shrug. 

“Yeah, well, I don't want to share.” He repeats, picking up his jacket from where it sits on the floor.

He slings it over is shoulder with an obliviously-carefree movement. “Okay, fine.” I say, trying not to be too childish, “hey, buddy- wait up!” I call. 

\---

Keith’s sleeping. Or training, I don't know, don't care. 

Either way, he's let his guard down, and so I must quench my curiosity; what’s on his damn iPod?

I recalled the name of the device earlier, recognizing the sleek frame as belonging to one of the oldest models in existence. How Keith has one, I have no clue. 

Because I am the ultimate spy, I formulate a foolproof plan: sneak to Keith’s room, grab the iPod, flick through the songs, and get out before Keith knows I was ever there. 

The halls are dark, as Allura had adjusted the castle to formulate an artificial night for us. 

I begin slow, sliding my way against a wall and hoping none of Hunk’s late-night food runs are in the works. Passing Pidge’s door is the hardest, because she’s got motion sensors hooked up. I slink by casually, hoping she doesn't come out to investigate. 

I get to Keith’s door without incident. With a _swoosh_ noise, the door slides open, giving me free access to the room. 

There it is. 

Shiny surface wrapped in headphone wires. Biting back a laugh, I notice Keith is, in fact, off training. Lifting the device, i search for a power button. It’s not clearly marked, but I find it and unwrap the cable, plugging it in properly.

Carefully, I slide the headset over my head and hit play.

The first song is okay. Something sad about love.

The next song is edgy, emo music, as expected from Keith.

The song after is where it starts. Sad, the music washes out the words, but what I can pick out sounds like the longing of death.

Like the singer wants to die.

I press to the menu, sorting through until I find the playlists. They’re organized by alphabet.

The song is still playing.

_Blue(L)_

_Me_

_Training_

I stare at them. With hesitant fingers, I tap on the first one.

I scroll through the songs, recognising some and seeing others for the first time.

The song is still playing.

The playlist is comprised of songs about love, songs about how “you” are a narcissist but “I” love it.

This is a playlist about loving someone.

I don’t bother to listen.

I click back and look at the next playlist.

I play through it as the other song comes to an end.

I sit there for a while, listening to different songs about trying to be victorious. Some songs are slow, others fast, but most about rising above.

About winning. About proving yourself good enough.

I think it’s been at least an hour since I switched out of of playlists and move back to the last one left. _Me._

I shuffle the songs, and wonder if I’ll find the song from before on this playlist. I hope not.

[The first song is quiet.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06jQ9krG5T8) It builds gradually, and I don’t think the singer says much, but it feels pained. Hurt. Lonely. 

Why is a song like this in a playlist called ‘Me’?

Why is a song like this something that Keith listens to?

And the name of the band- oh god, what does this mean?

And then it’s silent, and then singer announces quietly that’s they’re okay.

Song after song, sadness and fear and pain- I start crying.

I don’t know when, but one minute I’m confused, and the next there are tears sliding down my cheeks and my nose is running.

I’m frozen as the playlist goes from song to song, worse than the last, more hurtful.

It’s bad, and I feel myself drawing my knees to my chin. The ground is cool beneath me and I wish I would just take the damn headset off and leave.

But I can’t, because I’m finding things worse than my own insecurities buried in these songs, finding Keith’s, and finding that they were worse than just insecurities.

“What are you doing with that.”

I turn around as the door opens, casting Keith-sized shadows over me. “Lance…?” His face softens with concern, and I remember I have tears on my cheeks.

“Oh, ha- h-hey, buddy.” I say, trying to shake my expression away. I wipe at my face with my hand, the other coming up to pull down the headset. The iPod falls in my lap.

“Lance,” Keith says, coming to stand above me, “what’s wrong?”

“N-nothing’s wrong,” I insist, trying to laugh it off.

Always, always trying to laugh it off.

“Lance.” Keith sits next to me, his hand finding my shoulder, “what happened?”

I feel my chin quiver and give in. “Why… why do you listen to songs like this?” I ask, lifting the dimmed screen to show Keith, “why are they in a playlist called ‘Me’, why do you have songs that- why-”

“Lance-”

“I don’t ever want you to feel like the things they talk about in these songs are okay. ‘Cause they’re not. They’ll never be.” I say, voice shaking as more tears well in my eyes.

“I… they’re just songs, Lance-”

“Then why are they all together in a playlist like this?!” I demand, grabbing Keith by the shoulders, the iPod back in my lap, “I don’t want you to be sad.” I whisper, “not like this.”

We watch each other for a moment, and I think Keith might shed some of his own tears. I don’t wait to see before I’m hugging him, enveloping him with the most love I can, platonic or otherwise. I don’t care if he likes me the same way, not right now.

“I’m not sad, Lance.”

My grip on Keith tightens.

“I listen to things like that… I guess I relate? I don’t listen because I want to… y’know.” Keith’s arms wrap around me tentatively.

“Please don’t ever want to.” I choke out.

“I don’t anymore.”

“Anymore?” Keith buries his face into my shoulder, so I can feel the bottom of his nose against my shoulder.

“I had a rough childhood.”

“I didn’t know.” I mumble.

“You didn’t need to.” Keith says, and his voice is light when he pulls back to look at me, head cocked ever-so-slightly. “You don’t need to worry about me, okay Lance?” He asks, hands warm on my shoulders.

“I _want_ to worry!” I exclaim.

Keith looks taken aback. “You-... what?”

“You’ve gone so long, all by yourself, and now I’m gonna put a stop to that. You have me. You have us. _All_ of us.” I say.

“I have... you?” Keith asks.

I nod earnestly.

“No one’s ever said that to me.” He says, voice heavy with emotion, threatening to spill over.

I put my hands on his cheeks, suddenly at a loss for words. I start shaking my head, because that’s wrong, he should just _know_ things like that, and how _unfair_ that must be, because he grew up with people who had people to tell them they were there.

I’m still shaking my head, but there are tears on my cheeks because _I_ was one of those kids, someone who always had a family to hug me, and hold me, and tell me it was alright to make mistakes, because they’d love me no matter what. One of those kids who whined about the stupidest things.

“I’m sorry.” I say, voice embarrassingly hoarse.

Keith holds my face the same way I’m holding his in an attempt to get me to stop moving. “For what?” He asks.

My hands slide from his face to having my fingers hooked on his shoulders, palms flat against his collarbone. “Because I always whined about my problems at home and I never once thought there were other kids who didn’t ever have people to say they loved them, and so what if my dad wasn’t around sometimes, and my sister would take my things, and my brother would tear up my projects, and my aunt would sleep in my room when she visited- which was a lot until it was permanent-”

“Those are perfectly valid problems.” Keith interjects. “So what if they weren’t as ‘bad’ as mine,” Keith pulls his hands away to make quotations in air, but puts them back when he’s done, “they’re still problems. And yeah, I didn’t have anybody growing up. Sure, you had a houseful of people. It’s not your fault. And part of me is glad for it happening, because it made you into you, and it made me into me, and if those things hadn’t happened, then we probably wouldn’t have ever met. And I think that would’ve sucked.”

His face is tinged a pale pink when he’s done, visible even in the dim light.

I’m silent, because I don’t deserve his sympathy. I don’t know what to say. So I blurt out the first thing I think of: “I love you.”

Keith’s hands pull back the tiniest bit in surprise, now brushing my face instead of holding it.

“You- what?”

“Nobody’s ever been there to tell you they love you and mean it. I’ll be the first.” I say, and I feel like a determined child.

“I… I love you, too, Lance.” keith says, and the way he puffs out his cheeks in anticipation makes me think he means it as more than just as a brother. His hands come to rest on my cheeks again. “But… not _just_ like… more like _this._ ”

There’s a beat, and then suddenly he’s kissing me.

And, in my surprise, I forget to kiss back.

He’s wearing that same expression again. Cheeks filled with apprehension and eyes widened in wait. And I laugh.

Because Keith Kogane has got to be the cutest man alive. “What?” He asks, hands pulling back again.

Still humourous, I shift my hands to his jacket collar and pull him forward for a kiss. “I love you like this, too.” I smile, hands moving back to Keith’s cheeks.

“Oh.” He says, and pull him back for another kiss, because this feels _right,_ because I can try to replace the love he’d never gotten, because he’s giving me more than I could have ever asked for.

“Lance,” Keith interrupts, and I stare into his eyes, finding hints of the violet that mark him as Galra. “I love you.” He says.

I glance down, suddenly shy, “I love you, too.”

And we spend the hours talking and kissing, holding hands and playing with one another’s hair, figuring out ways to pull Keith’s into a ponytail and wondering if Allura would let us steal hair ties. We talk about our future, if we’re going to tell anyone, how everyone will react. We wonder how long it’ll last between us, and we confess we’d like it to last forever. We promise we’ll try our best.

We talk about nothing at all, and yet each word is everything to me.

Keith’s iPod lays discarded on the ground, still playing one of those awful songs that sound beautiful but hurt your ears with sadness.

It lays discarded, but it has changed us.

**Author's Note:**

> Song used: [Don't worry about me BY killedmyself.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06jQ9krG5T8)
> 
> So,,,, I used my own personal HCs again, hope you don't mind the OOC-ness, I feel like it is,,,hopefully it's not,,,,  
> I'm sorry for the langst/klangst  
> Hopefully those possible triggers didn't cause anyone harm, and if they did, please send me a message and I'll tag it!!!!  
> Also,, unedited.
> 
> AND I'M STILL SCREAMING ABOUT THAT SEASON 3 LEAK WBU  
> LOTOR,,,,,, TAKE ME NOW,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,


End file.
